Circus of the Sun
by Cheshirewocky
Summary: Oneshot: How Cirque du Soleil came to be. Canada is determined to make the other nations remember him. He figures that if he can't do it with power, then he'll just have to get creative. After all, how hard could managing a performance troupe be?


The midday summer sun shone in through Matthew's bedroom window, and the light dancing behind his eyes stirred the young nation to wakefulness. Taking his time in departing the dream world, he lazily huddled closer to the warm, fuzzy mass curled against his chest. After a couple more minutes of rest, though, he suddenly recalled the reason that he had stayed up so late in the first place. His eyes quickly opened in realization before he smiled brightly, burying his face between his polar bear's soft, white ears.

"Ne, Kumajirou…" he said quietly, his voice muffled against the bear's head.

"…_who?_" came the tired response, followed by a wide, plaintive yawn from the animal.

Matthew chuckled, in much too good a mood to mind the bear's forgetfulness today. Releasing his pet, he sat up and lifted the blanket away, swinging his legs out of bed enthusiastically. Spying what he needed across the room, he stood up and walked over to his desk, picking up the notebook that sat on top.

"Ne, Kumajirou," he repeated, turning to display the notebook, "I've finally done it! I've finally figured out how I'm going to get everyone to remember me!"

The bear sluggishly rolled over in the now empty bed to stare at his master, a blank expression donning his face.

"I've spent all year planning," Matthew continued, gazing at the notebook like a holy grail, "and now it's finally ready. I have the funding, the show is set up, and the performers are ready. I'll make it the best circus troupe the world has ever seen!"

Kumajirou blinked as he watched his master's eagerness. He reacted by simply shifting over to the spot that Matthew had previously occupied, curling back into the indent left in the warm mattress, and clutching at the soft blanket with his claws. The happy nation was too distracted by his dreams of success and attention to hear the bear's mumbled response.

"_Finally…_"

OoOoOoOoO

Matthew curled his hand around the steaming mug of coffee, letting the heat seep into his fingers. There was nothing like a hot drink to dispel the Canadian morning chill. Just as he lifted it up to take a sip, however, the sound of the doorbell rang through his home, leaving the mug hanging halfway between the table and its destination as Matthew looked towards the door. Glancing back at his reflection in the dark liquid, he let the cup hover for a moment of indecision before he placed it back on the table with a small sigh.

A minute later, he was fumbling with the lock on the front door until an audible click signaled that it had unfastened. He swung open the entrance and, upon seeing who was there, brightened considerably.

"Bella! _Bonjour!_ Thank you so much for coming," he beamed as the Belgian woman stepped in from the porch.

"_Bonjour, Mathieu_," she returned his smile as she removed her coat, handing it to her host to be placed on the coat rack by the door. "If you are to be thankful of anything, it should be that I am not as _thin-skinned_ as those Mediterranean sunbathers. Your summer weather reminds me much of Brussels."

Matthew felt his cheeks warm at Bella's pun, adjusting his glasses needlessly. The last time he had been visited by one of the _Francophonie_ had been a year before, when Francis had taken great offense after hearing that Canada was honoring the anniversary of their first encounter by funding a circus act. He hadn't stayed long, however, because dear old General Winter (who stayed close to the nation, even during the summer months) had taken great offense to how his charge was being treated and promptly drove the Frenchman back to his warm coasts.

Matthew cleared this throat, "Yes, well…I'm glad you're here. I know it wasn't exactly a gracious favor to ask, considering-"

"Considering how rarely you invite me over simply for a taste of your delicious maple chocolate? And when I do finally make a call free of diplomatic premises, it is due to your interest in the _commedia dell'arte_, of all things? Really, _Mathieu_, if your idea of flattery is to admire my skills as a circus director, then _François_ truly taught you nothing about the way to a woman's heart."

Matthew no longer needed that coffee, as he felt the heat radiating from his cheeks. Trying to think of an appropriate response while he shuffled his shoe on the ground, he quietly mumbled embarrassed apologies to the Belgian. He started in surprise when peals of laughter burst from her, and watched her unsurely as she tried to regain her composure.

"There is no need to apologize, _mon ami_," she grinned at the timid nation. "I am more than happy to return the expertise that you lent to me. Besides, I find you quite intriguing."

That confession stunned Matthew for a moment. To get attention from anyone was a feat in and of itself, but to _hear_ that he was on other people's minds sent butterflies of titillation to wreak havoc on his stomach. He couldn't stop the question that barreled from his mouth in response: "_Intriguing?_"

Bella nodded with a cheeky grin, obviously pleased by his reaction, "Quite. You have done many unexpected things lately, _Mathieu_. It has been some five years since you began on this venture, _oui_? And you have changed your direction each and every year – you must agree that you were terribly unprepared to handle such a project."

"I've been getting better…" the Canadian mumbled, but a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he realized that she didn't mean any insult. In any case, it was true. 1980 had been something of a disaster; sure, the people had loved the troupe, but the whole thing had failed financially. He'd had to take the summer of 1981 off just to regroup and come up with a new strategy. He managed to break even by the next fall and, deciding to push his good luck, set up a summer fair in Baie-Saint-Paul in 1982. Then he got kicked out for teaching circus tricks to the public and letting them participate in the shows, so he took the fair on the road. He did so well that in 1983, he convinced Quebec to fund a show that he would perform the next year, in honor of 450 years since Jacques Cartier first landed on Canadian shores. That was when he'd had to deal with a pissed off Francis.

"Last year was probably the worst of them all," Matthew nodded to himself with a reflective smile, running a hand through his blonde hair as he recalled all the trouble he'd gone through.

Bella laughed once more, the merry sound ringing through the hallway, "_Oui_! It seemed so much like everything would fall apart – your dear _Angleterre_ said that you must have been cursed."

Even Matthew had to laugh at that, "I just might have been. First with the big top practically collapsing on top of me, and then having to deal with more pissed off Europeans…"

Belgium watched him carefully as the red glow that had stained his cheeks returned. "Do not feel embarrassed, _Mathieu_. It is because of how you acted out last year that I am standing here right now."

She grinned at his incredulous stare, "I remember the look on your face as we _Europeéns_ heckled your treatment of our performers. I knew that something had to burst soon, and I was not disappointed," she couldn't stop herself from giggling at the memory. "I will never forget how you practically leapt up from your seat, telling us to – how did you say? – _'take our clowns and shove them'_? Your intensity was stunning – _L'Allemagne_ and _L'Italie_ looked as though they were expecting another Morro River Campaign."

While she laughed once more at the recollection of a flustered Ludwig, Matthew was wondering if it was even possible to turn redder than he already was. His flush had even crept onto his ears and below his collar, leaving him wanting to loosen a button or two on his shirt. He didn't, of course, and instead started stuttering about how he had apologized to everyone and he shouldn't have lost his temper like that.

"Oh, but you very well should have, _mon ami_!" Bella shook her head in disagreement. "I have not seen that side of you since that time you aided me in Antwerp," she smiled almost in a fond sort of way, a distant look in her eyes. "I was impressed. Anyone else may have become discouraged by so many obstacles, but you did not give in – you are more determined now than ever to improve and persist. I admire that, and I am delighted that you requested my help in the matter."

There was a quiet, comfortable moment between them before Matthew found his voice again, "Thank you."

Bella simply smiled at him before drawing her arm through his and pulling him down the hallway, "Such an impolite host," she admonished teasingly, "Keeping a lady chatting on her feet in the chilled hall. You must offer me a warm beverage, _Mathieu_, and then we shall discuss how we will make this venture of yours a success."

Matt grinned down at her and led her to the living room, resigned to the fact that his full cup of coffee had undoubtedly gone cold, and prepared to pour them both two fresh ones.

OoOoOoOoO

Matthew sighed as he gently rubbed the dark circles under his eyes before burying his face wearily into Kumajirou's head, the soft fur tickling his nose and cheeks. All he wanted at that moment was a plate stacked tall with hot pancakes, drizzled all over with maple syrup. Lots and lots of maple syrup.

A hard slap on his back caught him off guard and made him accidentally knock his jaw against the polar bear's head, earning a low growl from the creature. The Canadian looked up at his brother with a half-hearted glare as Alfred sat down beside him, grinning widely. He was holding a large bag of popcorn in one hand and a soft drink in the other.

"Why so blue, Mattie? I thought you were glad I invited you to perform here – after all, the LA Arts Festival is one hell of a shindig for me," Alfred said before shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. The resulting image reminded Matthew an awful lot of a hamster with food stuffed into its cheeks.

He had to look away to swallow down a laugh, "I _am_ glad, it means a lot that you're giving my act a chance," he replied, managing to keep his voice pleasant as his thoughts turned dark again.

"It's no problem, bro," Alfred acknowledged happily and looked towards the stage again, oblivious to Matthew's current mood. That was fine; it gave him a chance to think without distractions.

He was worried…really worried. The past two years had taken a turn for the worst, even with Bella's help. His first two performances outside of Quebec had been complete disasters. He'd barely managed to scrape by afterwards, and he still wondered occasionally why the French province had decided to fund him for another year.

It hadn't worked out, anyway. Things just kept going downhill. He had made the decision to go back to private funding this year, and Alfred's invitation almost immediately after was something of a mixed blessing. This was completely, irrefutably his last shot; if Alfred loved the show, then he could count on enough money for another performance and for his brother's huge mouth to help word spread on the grapevine. But if he didn't like it…

He sighed again, his weariness returning full force. His nerves were completely wracked, and the question of what he would do if this turned into another failure hung over him like a storm cloud. The company would have to disband; he had no doubt of that. But what about his people and the equipment? He had spent every last dime he had getting down here from Montréal, and if he didn't make some sort of profit today, then he wouldn't even have a spare dime to get him back. It was a huge gamble, and it was taking its toll on him.

A gentle hand on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see Bella standing over his shoulder, holding a large paper cup of something steaming. She smiled understandingly down at him as she handed him the drink, "The coffee here is not like yours, but I added some of your maple syrup to make it more bearable."

He thanked her and took a sip, the hot liquid and the taste of his beloved maples helping his tense muscles relax as he sat back in his seat. He knew that he'd be anxious throughout the entire performance, and he hoped that the caffeine and sugar wouldn't just make it worse.

"Try not to worry yourself, _mon ami_," the Belgian lady told him as she sat down on his other side, taking his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "We have done a good job with this one. Everything will be fine."

"It'll have to be," was all Matthew could say as the lights fell and the sounds of the crowd fell with them. The show was starting, but the only thing that he would be watching that night was the audience.

OoOoOoOoO

"Mattie, you are fucking _amazing!_" Alfred exclaimed once more, pumping his fist into the air enthusiastically since he had already jumped up out of his seat. "That has got to be one of the best fucking shows I've ever been to! _Way_ better than a stupid ballet or opera!"

Matthew couldn't reply. His mixture of shot nerves and ecstatic relief had left him exhausted, and all he could do was sit there in his seat, basking in his brother's praise. Alfred had loved it, that much was plain as day. He could already tell that he was going to make a substantial profit on this, and he was already being approached by several of Alfred's entertainment executives.

He'd done it. He, Canada, had hit it big after seven excruciating years. The next step was to make some more international tours, hopefully through Europe, and maybe even Asia, but for now that could all wait. Next to him, Bella gave his hand another squeeze – she'd held it through the entire performance – and he looked at her to find her smiling brightly.

"Congratulations, _Mathieu_," she told him softly, and he could hear her sincerity. He broke out into a tired grin, showing just how excited he was, even through his fatigue.

"I could have never done it without you. _Merci, ma mie_," he responded. Alfred was still raving in the background, but the two friends and business partners just filtered him out, enjoying their moment of victory together.

OoOoOoOoO

"The performance is excellent, Williams-san," Kiku commended the Canadian during the intermission, after they had both stepped out of the arena to stretch their legs and get some air. His expression was polite and tactful, as usual, but his small smile and the pleased twinkle in his eyes told Matt that he was enjoying the show greatly.

"Thank you, and you can call me Matthew if you'd like," he replied with gratitude, smiling widely himself.

Kiku nodded in response, "Matthew-san, then. Your people are quite skilled. The training and discipline that must have gone into developing such abilities reminds me of the martial arts. It is admirable how you have developed the potential of the body to such an extent; Jones-san always appears to place his strongest training in the force of his military."

Pleasantly surprised by the compliment and the noted difference between him and his brother, Matthew continued to chat with the Japanese man until it was time to go back inside. He watched the rest of the show with a happy grin.

OoOoOoOoO

As the stage cleared and the lights rose in the tent, Matthew looked at the Frenchman sitting next to him. He was startled to find a rather intense and very thoughtful expression on his face. He remembered then that his _Cirque_ was a reflection on French Canadian abilities, and that Francis had probably been carefully judging the show the entire time. Butterflies lifted off in his stomach and he suddenly felt nervous about asking for the older nation's opinion.

"What do you think so far, Francis?" he asked, and cursed the infinitesimal waver in his voice. The Frenchman turned to look at him blankly, clearly having been pulled from his thoughts, and then he smiled genially at the Canadian.

"I am enjoying it very much, _mon cher_," he answered, genuine pleasure notable in his voice as he looked back towards the stage. Matthew was about to relax when Francis's smile broadened into a smirk, a suggestive gleam visible in his gaze as he glanced at the young nation from the corner of his eye. "I never knew before now just how _flexible_ you are."

After a stunned moment, the heat rose quickly to Matthew's cheeks and he turned back to the stage, laughing nervously and waving off the comment as best he could. They stood for the intermission and exited the tent with the rest of the crowd, and Matthew started thinking of possible excuses to bolt from the Frenchman's presence when it didn't seem that he would give up his advances anytime soon. After all, as Francis was so keen on informing him, there were _plenty_ of things that they could do with fifteen whole minutes.

If he didn't get some peace, then it would be a long fifteen minutes indeed.

OoOoOoOoO

"This is simply wonderful, lad!" Arthur complimented cordially as they stepped out of the tent.

"You really think so?" Matthew smiled up at the nation who had raised him for most of his life.

"Absolutely! I'll admit that I was skeptical at first, but you've really hit on something with this 'revised circus' idea of yours," Arthur looked down at his former colony with no small amount of pride. Matthew's cheeks dusted red and he felt like a small child again under that fond gaze.

"What do you like most about it?" He asked, curious to hear the response. At that, the Englishman paused for a moment, giving the question serious thought before nodding firmly.

"Certainly, it would have to be the atmosphere of the show," he answered. "The music, the costumes, and the fluidity of the story-like themes give it such an otherworldly ambiance. It really takes me back to the old days…"

Matthew sighed through a small smile, watching Arthur with some exasperation and embarrassment. He could imagine just what kinds of "memories" were going through Arthur's head, of pixies and unicorns in misty forests. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that this was the same nation who had given him all those lessons on discipline and propriety long ago.

"Well I'm pretty sure I didn't get my imaginative side from Francis," he flattered the Englishman, meaning every word of it, and nodded appreciatively. "I'm really glad you're enjoying it."

Arthur, however, was looking at Matthew with something akin to shock. It didn't take long for him to break out in what could only be called absolute joy – it was practically radiating off of him – and he stepped closer to Matt as they walked, giving him a hearty clap on the shoulder.

"I knew I went right with one of you," he exclaimed, and Matthew didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "And unlike that cur you have for a brother, you know how to graciously receive a compliment as well."

Matthew embraced the friendly atmosphere, feeling for all the world like he was walking with his older brother again. This was like old times to him, too, and he was sincerely glad that Arthur was enjoying it as much as he was.

OoOoOoOoO

"Ah, it is very entertaining so far, Comrade-_Matvey_," Ivan complimented as the lights rose. Matthew smiled hesitantly, nodding his thanks. The expression on the Russian's face was quite cheerful, but then, when wasn't it?

"That's good news. I was hoping you'd like it," he responded sincerely, since it usually wasn't a good idea to upset the Russian. It crossed the Canadian's mind that maybe he didn't necessarily want _every_ nation's attention.

"You have used Russian performance methods, da?" Ivan asked thoughtfully, his innocent eyes watching Matthew very closely. "Most Western styles do not follow storyline through acts."

Matthew nodded, feeling that a little flattery wouldn't hurt him and pleased to talk about his creation, "I already wanted to draw the audience more into the performance itself - that's why I decided not to use animals or ringmasters. Having a story to follow added a flow to the acts and helped the audience connect to it even more. You were clever, coming up with that strategy. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it."

Ivan smiled brightly, and Matthew thought that he might as well have been looming over him with his pipe in hand, "I do not mind. Comrade-_Matvey_ is step closer to becoming one with Mother Russia, da."

Matthew forced his smile to freeze onto his face, and chose not to respond. Looking back to the stage, he considered cutting the intermission time for his performances in the future. They weren't really necessary, were they?

OoOoOoOoO

Matthew placed the phone back on the receiver as he finished writing up the schedule that he and Antonio had decided on for his performance in Barcelona. He was in a bit of a rush – he was going to be slightly late for a foreign relations conference, but he didn't mind.

When he thought about it, really, his _Cirque_ was hardly a world shaking achievement. It was simply entertainment – an international extension of the service industry. Still, he considered with a smile, it was entirely unique, and the other nations that he toured in always looked forward to his visit. Maybe it wasn't a diplomatic point of power, but he had still managed to create something all his own, and he got some more attention than he had before – especially whenever the big top rolled into town.

Glancing at his watch, he muttered a French curse that Francis probably wouldn't have recognized before grabbing his things and running out the door.

Beside the chair, which was still spinning from being so quickly vacated, Kumajirou stared after his master with his typical blank expression. After a moment, he broke the silence in the empty room with a quiet voice.

"_Good Canada._"

A few seconds later, Matthew came hurtling back into the room, stopping to pant for a moment before smiling ruefully at the polar bear. He quickly crossed the room to his pet, picking him up and heading back towards the door.

"Sorry, Kumajirou. I was in such a rush that I almost left you behind," he apologized.

"_Who?_" the bear in question looked up at the bespectacled nation, knowing that such a thing could never happen.

* * *

1979 - Guy Laliberté, founder of Cirque du Soleil, and his two friends Daniel Gauthier and Gilles Ste-Croix began developing the idea of creating an organized performing troupe. Gauthier and Ste-Croix were managing a youth hostel for performing artists and saw opportunity. Ste-Croix managed to convince the Quebec government to fund their production, giving them the money to create _Les Échassiers de Baie-Saint-Paul._

1980 - Although well-received by audiences, _Les Échassiers _was a financial failure. Laliberté spent that winter plying his trade in Hawaii while Ste-Croix stayed in Quebec to set up a holdings company to mitigate their losses.

1981 - The troupe manages to break even by the next fall, inspiring Laliberté and Ste-Croix to set up a summer fair in their home town of Baie-Saint-Paul.

1982 - The fair, named _La Fête Foraine _took place that July. Workshops were set up to teach the public the circus arts, after which they could participate in the performances. Concerned citizens banned the fair from its own hosting town and sent it on the road.

1983 - The Quebec government gave Laliberté $1.5 million to host a production to be performed the next year, as part of the Quebec Celebration of the 450th Anniversary of French explorer Jacques Cartier's first landing on Canadian shores. France was not actually offended by this - that was an exaggeration made by the author.

1984 - The tour around Quebec, known as _Le Grand Tour du Cirque Du Soleil_, met with initial difficulties, including the collapse of their big top after rainwater weighed the tent down, causing the center mast to snap. The European performers in the troupe were also terribly unhappy with the inexperience of the Quebecoise circus, and even sent a letter to the Canadian media to complain about how they were being treated. The Canadian performers did not actually tell them to "shove it" - that was an exaggeration made by the author. By the end of the year, the Cirque met with great success.

1985 - Laliberté decided to take steps to turn his Cirque into a "proper circus". He hired the head of the National Circus School, Guy Caron, as the artistic director. They also hired Franco Dragone, another instructor from the school who had been working in Belgium at the time. Dragone ended up staying with the Cirque and directing every show until 1998. A key idea they wanted to implement was the absence of any animals or ring masters in the show. The two artists brought two new concepts to the direction of the shows:

1) Emulating the methods of the Moscow Circus, the decided to have their performances tell a story through the acts.

2) Dragone brought with him his expertise of the commedia dell'arte techniques, or "Italian comedy", which is a form of improvisational theater dating back to Ancient Rome.

1986 - Their first two performances outside of Quebec, in Toronto and later Niagara Falls, were met with lukewarm criticism and sent the company in a debt of $750,000. With the help of their holdings company, their generous financier, and the Quebec government, they managed to scrape by and get enough funding to stay solvent for another year.

1987 - The Cirque was invited to perform at the Los Angeles Performing Arts Festival. Laliberté decided to take the gamble, despite only having enough money left for a one-way trip. Thankfully, they met with huge financial and critical success.

Today, _Cirque du Soleil_ employs over 4,000 performers from over 40 countries, producing 19 shows in over 270 cities on every continent except for Africa and Antarctica.

**Other References:**

_The Moro River Campaign -_ This campaign was part of the broader Allied strategy to breach the German Winter Line defensive system, move through Pescara, and eventually take Rome. Beginning their attack on December 5, 1943, the Canadian forces took the Villa Rogatti in a grand total of three days, forcing German defenses out. After initial failed attempts to capture San Leonardo, the Canadians regrouped and broke free of their bridgehead and assaulting German forces before setting up a line above the town. December 8th, they managed to hold their positions in the midst of the German forces. By the next morning, the bridge across the Moro was completed, allowing the Calgary Tanks and reinforcements to sweep through, taking San Leonardo and forcing the Germans to retreat to their second defense line, known as The Gully. After two badly failed attempts to penetrate the Gully, the Canadians managed to outflank the Germans, and on December 20th, met with little resistance and found The Gully already vacated as they assaulted the line.

_Battle of the Scheldt -_ The First Canadian Army was tasked with the objective of liberating the ports of Antwerp for the Allied forces. It took nearly two months, over 12,000 casualties (half of them Canadian) and bolstering from international reinforcements, but the Canadian forces forced their way through German defenses and took control of the Scheldt estuary and the ports of Antwerp.

_Belgian vs. Canadian Climate -_ Apparently, the annual temperatures for July are 64 degrees F in Brussels, Belgium, and around 61 degrees F in many areas around Canada.

**Author's Note:** Franco Dragone was originally Canadian before he went to work in Belgium, which is why Belgium says that she is returning the expertise that Matthew lent to her. I wanted her to represent Dragone to create some character interaction through her friendship with Canada, and to make the story a little more dynamic.

I hope that you all enjoyed the performance! Criticisms of the production would be greatly appreciated, and I apologize for the lack of intermission. Matthew decided to cut it out.


End file.
